


Preening Session

by Tiaq



Category: Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Bullying, Drabble, F/M, High School, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Reminiscing, Threesome - F/M/M, Wings, wing preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiaq/pseuds/Tiaq
Summary: Drabble/snippet about how Alaric got the nasty scars on his back. Mia, curious as her nickname, and Peter's first time hearing it too.





	Preening Session

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in some odd nebulous after Peter left for a time, then the 3 got together in a relationship. I always suspect Peter guessed at the story behind Alaric's scars, but didn't ask because Alaric would tell him eventually. Or not. XD

Two sets of fingers rifled through his dark feathers, petting and tugging at them to see which were loose and ready to be removed. His wings were still healing, still a mess from his teenage anguish, much to his embarrassment and chagrin. But they were doing better now, and so was he.

One set of hands were confident and swift, working in towards his back from the outside, the other were much more timid and soft. Both soothing in their own way as Alaric was slowly lulled towards the vestiges of sleep, of which only a good preening and soft bed could do. Sometimes even the bed wasn’t wholly necessary.

Heavy eyelids were slowly closing as Alaric sighed contentedly, vaguely aware of those timid fingers brushing against the tight skin of his back; the ugly scars that took up most of the length of his back even when wings were present.

“What’s the story behind these, Alaric? I don’t think you’ve ever told me…” Mia said quietly, her touch so soft it was barely there.

Alaric was suddenly awake, and stiff as he almost physically flinched at the question. He wasn’t the only one either as he noticed Peter had stopped his half of the preening too. The wolf hybrid didn’t answer right away, just propped himself up enough to look at her. Peter was beside him, close and his cornerstone as his mind raced at where to begin. The beginning? The aftermath?

“They’re nothing. Just…” No, they weren’t nothing, that was wrong. He grumbled as he started over. “I’m a werewolf with wings, an abomination. I got sick of the taunts and pulling of my wings, getting bullied by sheep who didn’t know what they were talking about.” The jeers echoed in his mind, times when he got physically hurt but couldn’t fight back because what about Lexi? His parents would be so ashamed to have to go through another court battle to avoid jail. The torment he got daily, being tripped into lockers and bleachers, messing him up during P.E. to look bad; the whispers, the wretched looks of disgust that were shot his way simply for existing.

“Fucking sparkle-dog. I got tired of it so I cut them off with my uncle’s wickedly-sharp steak knives.” Fat lot of good they did him with his awkward angle in a mirror. It was why the scars were so extensive, because he couldn’t get a good grip and the pain was excruciating as he had attempted to saw through bone. He’d been successful though despite it all. And it had hurt like a bitch, bled all over the bathroom “They were gone for all of a year or two. Then Mom’s genes showed through and they grew back.” Alaric’s voice was tight and his bark of laughter wrong, self-deprecating. “They fucking grew back and-” he waved his hand. “You see they’re still here.”

He paused in his self-loathing to look at Mia, her shocked expression. Her fingers hand stilled over his scars, as if petrified by his words. His lips twisted into a smirk. “Guess they’re tougher than I was,” he sneered before flopping back down on the soft bed. “They finished healing not long ago so it’s still… they still hurt. Scars are tight, but it’ll go away eventually. Who knows, maybe I’ll even fly again someday.” It’d been too long, he barely remembered how. Was it like riding a bike? Or was it like learning to walk after he’d nearly starved himself? All wobbly and stiff when it should have been easy and smooth. Probably the latter, knowing his luck.

“Its past, don’t worry about it,” he said airily, glancing at Peter who had been quiet the entire time. His face held more enigmas. Alaric saw worry in those green eyes, the tightness of his lips but the expressive eyebrows that usually would be wiggling in suggestion were downturned and added to the worry. It made Alaric swallow thickly. “Its fine,” he said again, firmer.

“Yes you are,” Peter said finally, altering his expression to something more laid-back. But Alaric could smell his worry. Those sinful hands rested against his cheek before ruffling his hair. “And we’re here to make sure you are properly taken care of since we can’t trust you by yourself. Look at these wings! It’s going to take months to get them in proper working order for sex in the air. Flying sex. Ah that will be the day…” he said almost wistfully, sighing as he looked skyward as if envisioning them on the ceiling.

Alaric snorted, his oddly-colored eyes amused now. “Flying sex? Really? I thought you were joking.”

Mia finally piped up, still not as easy-going as the men, but trying to sound casual. “But he never jokes about sex, Alaric. He’s worse than an addict.”

“Ah true, but I don’t hear any complaints from either of you,” Peter said. Alaric had a suspicion that his mate was trying to steer the conversation from less dangerous topics. Less emotionally-charged ones. To which he was grateful. His educational years hadn’t been very smooth, not when his attitude was less than satisfactory for sheep, and when he would much rather have been home with his pack. Sheep didn’t know what it was like to be so different, or few did anyway. They hid behind their fear with sharp words and sharper elbows to send him reeling through school. If he hadn’t been a werewolf with healing, his pack would have found out sooner about how he was bullied. But bruises never lasted long enough. And apparently his wings would never leave him completely. So he accepted them now, begrudgingly.

It wasn't so bad though, as Peter and Mia picked up the task again, smoothing and tugging on loose feathers as he found himself drifting once more. This was nice, being with his two favorite people, getting his wings preened, safe and comfortable as the two teased one another above him. He could get used to this, and maybe he wouldn't be so resentful about his wings. Maybe.

He'd need a few more preening sessions.


End file.
